


A Lonely Sky

by Taleoftheredpanda



Category: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taleoftheredpanda/pseuds/Taleoftheredpanda
Summary: Not all days will be simple. A lesson Chihiro learned when her town was attacked, driving her into a world of spirits and magic she had apparently visited eleven years ago. But fate is sometimes funny, and Chihiro soon finds herself involved in mysterious plots and rivalries. Not to mention getting tangled up with a mysterious and handsome man she feels inexplicably drawn to.
Relationships: Haku | Nigihayami Kohakunushi/Ogino Chihiro
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	1. The Calm Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve recently re-watched Spirited Away since I suddenly have a large amount of spare time, and was inspired after a long time away from writing to start again.  
> Any feedback is welcomed since I'm hoping to be able to write my own books at some point, so I'm always looking for something to help me improve my writing.  
> This is my first time posting on AO3 so sorry is there's any formatting mistakes.  
> Hope you enjoy.

Chihiro Ogino was a woman of twenty-two years of age with a recently earned Master’s degree in Biology under the rigorous training of one of the best researchers in the country. She spent the last year hunching over Petri dishes: pipetting microbes, hoping against all hope that the little cells would begin to multiply. Eventually, they had, earning her the valid argument that the strain was infectious, paving the way for her thesis. She was in the top ranking for archery in her prefecture, an award-winning short story writer, and could hold conversations in three languages.

She was also currently fighting a window.

And she was losing.

The latch once again tore from her hands as another gust of wind caught the glass like a sail. She winced as she heard the frame crack into the bricks of the outer wall.

A muffled call from her mother came from downstairs, “Chihiro, don’t forget to pull the banner in before the rain starts, you know that Mrs Okai wanted to...” A deep roll of thunder swallowed up any other words.

Chihiro glanced up at the thick blanket of grey clouds hanging above her head and felt a droplet of rain land on her cheek.

“I know!” Chihiro called back, as she swiped the water from her face. Shaking her head, Chihiro leaned out of her bedroom window again, grasping for the latch that sat mockingly out of reach. Not a day had gone by in the past week where her mother hadn’t mentioned the Sun Festival, which wasn’t a surprise since her mum had finally achieved her goal of becoming the youngest head of the organising committee, beating out Mrs. Okai, the local flower shop owner.

Tomorrow would be the highlight of the town’s calendar: a celebration dedicated to the sun and the harvest brought to the village. When the sun reached its highest point, farmers would take to the streets and toss blessed rice into the doorways of homes and businesses, before they made their way to the farms where they would sow the rest of the rice. Songs would carry on late into the night and copious amounts of food eaten from dangerously over-filled fold out tables in the street, all in honour of the spirit of the sun.

It was just a bit ironic, Chihiro thought, given the current weather.

Cold metal brushed against her fingertips and she used her other hand to push up on the low windowsill as she leant out to reach the handle. The light speckles of rain that had been gradually beginning to fall was quickly turning to a downpour; water dripped down Chihiro’s arm, and the handle almost slipped out of her grip as the frigid water bit into her skin. With a firm tug, the window swung back towards Chihiro. The hinges howled along to another deep growl of thunder.

Before the frame could kiss the jamb, a great blast of fiercely cold wind funnelled down the alley between the houses. The window was torn back towards the wall, and Chihiro, who still hung half outside of the house, was pulled with it. Her hips slammed into the windowsill as she dropped her hands away, trying to grasp onto something to stop her fall as her weight tipped her forward and out.

Bricks slapped sharply against her hands, and she teetered in the open space of the window.

She balanced on the windowsill, her sock-covered toes brushing the floor. The almost miraculous grip she had found on a slim gap between bricks the only thing that kept her from sliding any further towards the two-story drop.

Slowly, gingerly, and with the greatest care Chihiro had ever applied to anything in her life, she began to push herself back into the house. Her feet met solid wood, and she scrambled against the windowsill as she slid backwards into a heap on the floor, grateful her hands never slipped from their small refuge.

“That was close,” she murmured to herself. Her heart hammered in her chest, and a strange tingling had started behind her ears. She definitely wouldn’t have walked away from that fall without injury; concrete paved the entire alleyway, which she wagered would have had little give under her much softer and more vulnerable body.

Her hands stung from their harsh meeting with the wall, and her left wrist burned. Irritated, red skin had risen underneath her purple hair tie, as if the threads had burnt the skin underneath. The tie itself was going threadbare, and as she prodded her wrist, Chihiro pulled at an unravelling fibre as she waited for her heart to slow. She always felt she should know where she bought the little hair tie. When she thought about it, she caught the impression of an ocean and the earthy smell of salt and herbs. She thought it was perhaps from a long-forgotten holiday when she was much too young to remember. Though when she had asked her parents about it, they hadn’t known of any beach holiday, or any other holiday, where she might have gained it. The tie seemed to have just appeared one day, as if by magic, and she had used it ever since.

Chihiro rubbed her wrist one last time, figuring she jolted it when she caught herself, then pushed her sopping wet hair from her face. Rain had soaked through the back of her t-shirt, making it stick uncomfortably to her skin. She stood carefully from the wet floor – she’d had enough accidents today, thank you very much.

Stripping off her shirt, Chihiro shuffled through a pile of clothes dumped on her desk chair until she found a similar shirt wrapped in a towel. She threw the towel down onto the rain splattered floor, resolving to deal with the mess later. Luckily, since she had long moved out of her parents’ home to her own apartment nearer to the city, most of her childhood things had been moved out of her old room into storage. She wasn’t a fan of trying to fix water damage, something she learned after the time her dad had burst a sink pipe in the bathroom, leaving her to salvage as many of her favourite bath-things as possible (including a rather expensive bath-salt collection from her sixteenth birthday, which, sadly, hadn’t survived).

She was mostly glad not to have ruined the drawings from her younger, and much wilder, imagination that once lined the windowsill. Her collection had included framed pictures of wide-eyed soot balls, a man with a multitude of arms reaching into a wall of draws, and a pair of old twin sisters, one with a much kinder face than the other. But in the centre of them all had been her favourite: a white dragon with flowing green mane, its thin body curling and twisting in a bright sky above an expanse of ocean; an island city of twinkling yellow lights depicted far below in the distance. Even now, she could picture it tucked safely away on the wall of her office in her apartment. Golden afternoon sunlight would filter through the blinds and glint off the painting, making it seem as if the ocean waves still rolled and the dragon’s eyes flickered. She took a strange comfort in thinking that the painted dragon watched over her.

There was another rumble of thunder. The storm would be directly overhead soon.

Reluctantly, Chihiro turned back towards the window. Before she could step closer, there was a loud clatter, and Chihiro watched as the window swung itself closed. Even the latch fell into place, barring out the storm now fully raging.

She crossed the room and touched the latch, not sure what she was expecting. But it was still solid under her hand and as cold and damp from the rain as before. Nothing was different. But she was sure she had just watched the window close itself. There was no way it could have fallen when the wind had torn it so harshly from her hands before. Chihiro prodded the glass, not sure if she had just imagined it, but the window stayed firmly closed under her fingertip. The wind direction must have changed, she reasoned, and knocked the window closed with enough force to unsteady the latch; it wasn’t uncommon for the storms around the town to become frenzied, sometimes nearing typhoon conditions, unpredictable. Chihiro could already see black clouds rolling in from over the forest to the south, blocking any residue sunlight that had been fighting its way to the ground. The air hung hot and heavy despite the rain already falling.

As she gazed out of the window, something moved in the corner of her eye, but when she looked, there were only the swaying trees of the dark forest behind her parent’s house. The trees bowed in the wind, the leaves twisting and flashing like the scales of some great beast woken by the storm. Dark shadows nestled in the gaps between trees. For a moment, Chihiro thought she saw the outlines of two people stood together. They looked to be just inside the tree-line, huddled together against the rain with their heads bowed low towards each other. She squinted and wiped away the fog on the glass; she had leant forwards without realising, too focused on making out the shapes. 

They were gone.

Only murky wood beyond the edge of the forest was visible between the two large and withering oak trees where the figures had stood. And as much as Chihiro squinted, she couldn’t make out any person-shaped silhouettes.

It was likely just some hikers hiding from the rain. The weather forecast hadn’t predicted the storm. And it was uncountable the number of times she herself had stumbled home from that same forest, soaked to the bone and sloshing in her hiking boots, all thanks to a sudden rain shower.

The skin behind her ears was tingling again, and she couldn’t quite shake a twisting in her stomach. It was probably nothing, and Chihiro put her unsettled feelings down to the near-death experience and her still slightly spinning head from hanging out of the window. But the image of the two bent forms stayed with her. Hikers or not, Chihiro felt the sudden need to put as much distance between herself and the window as possible.

Heavy footsteps came from the stairs. Chihiro came out of her room at the same time her mum made it upstairs. She was leaning heavily with an arm wrapped around the banister, and her harsh breaths rattled in her chest from the short climb. Chihiros’ heart painfully constricted as she rushed over to grab her mum’s other arm for support.

It took a few more steadying breaths before her mum shook off Chihiro’s supporting arm. She still clutched at the banister and didn’t move away from the stairs, though.

“Did you bring the flag in yet?” She asked, waving Chihiro away when she lost her balance and teetered dangerously forward before correcting herself.

“Mum, you shouldn’t be worrying about this. I was just about to bring it in, why don’t you go sit down?”

“Sit down? Do you think I can sit down when Mrs. Okai will use any excuse to take over as head next year? Even a few damp decorations will be enough to set that silly old woman off. Sitting down is the only thing I’ve been allowed to do for months. I suddenly feel the need to stand every minute of the day.” Her mum’s jaw set in a hard line and Chihiro knew better than to ask again. Or mention that her mother and Mrs. Okai were almost the same age.

Her mother’s health had deteriorated rapidly after a terrible bout of pneumonia over winter. And it was the main reason Chihiro had moved back home with her parents. With her dad working most hours of the day at the train station and not in the best of health himself (a long-held diet of junk food being the main culprit), Chihiro was the one left to look after her mum.

“I’ll go pull the flag in if you relax,” Chihiro said, before smiling impishly. “Who knows what trouble would happen if Mrs. Okai was in charge next year. Imagine if we had to have red confetti instead of blue.”

Her mum narrowed her eyes. “Don’t take that tone. You know what she’s like about food. She keeps slipping recipes into my record books. Some self-proclaimed guru from Mumbai or wherever suggesting you should imagine the cinnamon flavour of a _cinnamon cake_ since the real thing will disturb your natural energy waves. And don’t think your favourite fish buns would be spared.”

Chihiro’s mum carried on in a high, mocking voice as she waved her hand as if to ward off some unseen evil spirits in the air around her head, “Fish unbalances the soul and is the progenitor of all intestinal problems, and only an aquamarine crystal exposed to three full moons will counter the effect.” Chihiro grimaced. She’d never been a fan of the whole spiritual take on life, something she clearly inherited from her mother. A love of food was also something she inherited from both her parents, and the thought of a medicinal and crystal infused feast was not something she enjoyed.

Her mum straightened herself and let go of the banister, seemingly reenergised in her ire at the thought of Mrs. Okai’s interference. “I’ll close the rest of the windows if you go and pull that flag in. The rain seems to be stopping but it probably won’t be for long; it looks like this storm is going to stay over us for a while.”

“Fine,” Chihiro said as her mum made her way into the spare bedroom. “But I’m cooking dinner and you’re going to sit and watch that awful gossip show.” Her mum made no reply or gave any acknowledgement that she had heard. Chihiro rolled her eyes at her stubborn mother and shuffled towards the hallway window. The storm had gentled somewhat for the moment, though a soft drizzle was still whipped about by the wind. She unclipped the flag from the flower box and hauled it inside. The flag itself was made from a cheerfully bright blue fabric with the image of a sun printed boldly in the centre. Across the bottom read:

_Hitemeo Town Sun Festival: Blessed be the Sun that Warms Us!_

It was also thoroughly soaked, and a puddle began to build where it dripped. Chihiro tossed it to the floor where it landed with a wet slop. She turned again to the open window and took a moment to look out.

The window looked out onto the street. Bunting, adorned in an identical style to the flag, bowed between lampposts and dangled down the sides of buildings where the wind took it up and twirled it. Hooks for balloons swung from gutters and gates, waiting for the wrapping of colourful string that would anchor down blue and white balloons in the day to come – if the weather improved, that is. Chihiro almost wished it wouldn’t.

Usually, she and her childhood best friend, Mimi, would procure a couple of bottles of sake and sit out on the balcony at Mimi’s parents’ house. They would watch the feast on the street below, drinking, talking, and stuffing themselves with food they would take turns collecting from the creaking over-laden tables below.

Every year the mayor, red in the face from wine and laughter, would pull his wife from her seat and spin her around the street in some semblance of a dance, his deep chesty laugh and her girlish giggles reverberating off the buildings. The people gathered for the festival would clap along as they went twirling and jigging their way between the tables until those more inclined to dance would spring from their seats to join, dragging along those seated near them. Others, who perhaps had eaten or drank a little too much, would watch happily from their seats, occasionally cheering in encouragement as a family member or friend passed by their table.

Mimi and Chihiro would clap along from the balcony before settling back into their seats and carrying on whatever conversation they had been having. Except last year Mimi had remained silent before suddenly interrupting Chihiro, who had been in the middle of championing why they should re-watch their favourite drama again that night, instead of getting enough sleep.

“I’m leaving,” Mimi had said, “for good.”

Chihiro had turned to her friend, who stared down at the people, mostly, turning in time with the beat. Laughter drifted up to them over the music. “What do you mean, when did you decide this? Not that you can’t decide things without me, it’s just that you usually tell me when you’re planning a trip.”

“Not a trip, Chihiro. I mean that I’m getting on a plane tomorrow and I’m not coming back. I’m going to America.” Mimi looked away from the street and turned to Chihiro. Her dark eyes were twinkling from a mixture of the fairy lights wrapped on the balcony railing and excitement.

She took a deep breath before continuing in a rush, “I’ve met someone. He’s incredible; I know that you’d love him. We're going to live with his family for a while, just at first, then move to the West Coast, near LA. I know this is sudden, but you know how much I’ve always wanted to be an actor, and this is the perfect time.”

Chihiro had been taken aback by the sudden turn of the conversation. “But how did you meet him, and why haven’t you mentioned him before now? I kind of feel like this is something you’re meant to tell your best friend, especially when you decide to move across continents for him. And what do you mean by not coming back, what about your parents? The success rate for new actors in LA is exceedingly low,” Chihiro rambled. They had always talked about going away to live in some far off place: Paris, South America, some isolated beach in the Bahamas. Anywhere away from the little town that was lit up around them. But this had been all too sudden. Add in a boyfriend Chihiro hadn’t known about, and it left her feeling very much out of water.

Mimi smiled affectionately at Chihiro and squeezed one of Chihiro’s hands between her own. “I met him during a workshop at the university. You know the one about Shakespeare’s drama in modern society?” Chihiro nodded. Mimi had been so excited about it, and Chihiro now wondered if that had been due to more than just reciting prose.“Well, his name’s Liam, and we got talking after the class and started meeting up when we could. You’d already left for the summer holiday, so it was nice to be able to spend time with someone. He was so charming and fun, but I think I fell in love with him because he’s so kind to everyone he meets. He once helped this woman carry home her shopping home when he was walking me back to the dorm.”

Chihiro tuned out for a moment as Mimi carried on about this mystery boyfriend’s various kind deeds. Out of all the guys Mimi had dated, Chihiro had never heard her admit that she loved any of them. She hardly even said it to her doting parents. It was at that moment Chihiro had known it was serious and that her friend would follow this person anywhere, even away from her home town. And Chihiro.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was going to get this serious so quickly.” Mimi had said and Chihiro turned her full attention onto her friend again. “Besides, you’ve been so busy with your research paper. I didn’t want anything to distract you.” That had stung. Chihiro hadn’t thought she had been so focused on her research that she’d neglected her friend, making Mimi feel as if she couldn’t even talk to her.

“And what about not coming back here?” Chihiro asked softly when Mimi paused and started to fidget. She’d always fidgeted when she was hiding something.

“I...the thing is he can’t come here. His student visa runs out next week, and he won’t be able to come back to Japan for the next few years for international movement reasons. Also, the flights between America and Japan are so expensive. I couldn’t believe it when I looked. You know how it is, especially with Liam and I both being Arts students, we’re not exactly raking in anything.” Mimi had laughed at her own joke, though it had come out higher than her usual laugh, more forced, Chihiro had noticed. “That’s why I can’t come back, at least for now. We can’t afford it, and to be honest, I don’t want to be without him, even if it’s just for a week.”

Chihiro wasn’t convinced, but before she could ask anything further, Mimi had turned away with a bottle of sake and, foregoing a cup, took a long swig.

“Look, your mum and dad are dancing!” Mimi laughed as she pointed down onto the street.

Mimi had brushed off any attempt Chihiro made at bringing the subject back up, instead pointing and laughing at something interesting on the street below until Chihiro stopped trying.

The next day, Mimi had got into a taxi, refusing both her parents and Chihiro’s offers to drive her to the airport, and was gone. Chihiro had tried calling, texting, emailing, online messaging, but they had all been left unanswered. It was as if Mimi had just disappeared from Earth. Even Mimi’s parents hadn’t heard anything, and after a failed missing person report, Chihiro had stopped pestering them for any sign of her friend.

The only consolation they had had was two letters delivered on New Year’s Eve: one to Chihiro, and one to Mimi’s parents. The paper had been weighted and thick, the monogram _L.G._ printed in gold at the bottom; the sort of stationary a high-end executive might use. Mimi’s small, neat handwriting filled the paper, relating how she was doing very well and had settled wonderfully into her new home. She had even managed to land a few major side-roles her agent had told her could lead to a breakthrough in some upcoming movie or T.V show. She also wrote about how much she was in love with Liam, how well they were doing together, and how much his family loved her, and she loved them. There was so much affection in the letter. To the point that Chihiro had almost felt like an interloper reading it – as if she was peeking at someone’s love letter when they weren’t looking. There was no invitation to come and see Mimi and her new life, and there was no mention of her coming home any time soon.

Chihiro had stuffed the letter into the back of a draw in her study, and that was where it had remained untouched for almost six months.

The thought of the Sun festival had been soured for Chihiro by Mimi’s abrupt departure. Instead of a day to look forward to getting drunk with her best friend, it had become a reminder of Chihiro’s loneliness. Making new friends had always been a struggle for her. Throughout high school and university, she had kept to herself. Too shy to talk to others and too quiet to be noticed, she disappeared into the background – a set piece for other people’s lives. Mimi had been the one to charge into Chihiro’s life at age eleven and drag her along to any parties or social activities she was going to. Chihiro, who had been new to the town at the time, had happily gone along with it, and they had been inseparable ever since.

Until now, Chihiro reminded herself. She pushed back the memories that had swarmed in at the sight of the decorations. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of the past. She was happy for Mimi, she truly was, and glad she was living up to her life-long ambition of becoming an actress. She just wished she could have been a part of it.

A cold breeze whistled in through the window and danced along Chihiro’s arms, making her shudder and effectively cutting off any thoughts. Being careful not to lean too far, she pulled the window closed. It clicked smoothly into place without incident.

Collecting the flag from where it had been building its own pond (she would have to mop that up later, though she doubted she would remember to), Chihiro ducked into her room and gathered up the towel and drenched shirt before trudging downstairs to the dryer. For a moment, her eyes had been drawn to her bedroom window as she scooped up the towel, and the memory of the two figures had reappeared. They had disturbed her more than she wanted to admit; their hunched backs and shadowed faces had seemed almost intentional, as if they hadn’t wished to be seen by anyone in the town. She thought about mentioning it to her parents but immediately decided against it; there was no point worrying them. Her mum was already stressed enough with finalising plans for the Festival the next day and Chihiro had no intention of adding to it, especially with her mum in a weakened condition, despite her denial of it. Her near fall would also undoubtedly slip out, and she didn’t want to worry them. She had always been clumsy – granted not usually fall-out-of-a-window clumsy, but close enough to it that the incident hadn’t concerned her too much. Tripping and dropping things was normal affair for her, but she always seemed to get lucky, never breaking anything or falling too hard. She was charmed, Mimi used to tell her, and Chihiro privately agreed.

She threw her armful in for a quick cycle and wandered into the kitchen. The hands of the clock on the wall had just reached half-past five, so Chihiro began to pull out pots and ingredients, having decided on a simple pasta dish. As she was adding diced onion into the hot pan, her mum walked into the kitchen and began to unpeel the garlic. They chatted lightly about the storm and festival the next day. Chihiro was reprimanded for leaving puddles in the hallway, and Chihiro reminded her mum that she wasn’t meant to be helping with dinner. They fell into a comfortable silence as the pan hissed and a pot of spaghetti bubbled noisily. Sweet, fragrant drafts of onion, garlic, and tomato drifted through the room.

At about ten-to-six the front door creaked open and then closed softly. There was a shuffling from the hallway, and Chihiro’s dad appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He was a large man with hair now more grey than brown and fine laugh lines around his kindly eyes; his advancing age suited him well. His red train station uniform was creased from a long day’s work maintaining the tracks.

“How are my two favourite ladies this evening?” He asked, dropping a kiss onto Chihiro’s head, then one onto his wife’s cheek.

Idle talk and laughter filled the kitchen. They listened about the day at the station, and Chihiro and her dad exchanged exasperated glances as her mum complained half-heartedly about the plans that would have to change if the rain didn’t end, both knowing she would welcome the challenge. They served the food and ate happily, enjoying each other’s company as a family. Chihiro loved her family dearly, and though she sometimes wished she could be back at her apartment and leading her own life, these small moments of contentment made the temporary loss of independence worth it.

Plates were soon empty and they leant back in their chairs in a satisfied ease that could only be achieved through good food. The washing up was left to Chihiro’s insistent dad, so she and her mum settled themselves in the living room, a mindless quiz show playing on the TV. Chihiro’s dad soon joined them and he slid onto the settee, his arm wrapped around her mum who nestled into him.

The evening passed quietly. The occasional reminder of the storm battered at the windows whilst the weatherman that popped up during adverts – his suit slightly ill-fitting at the shoulders and his unnaturally white teeth glinting in an even more unnatural smile – assured them that the storm would move away to the east in the night. Chihiro soon found her eyes drooping closed, and the sentences of the people on the TV becoming indistinct and disjointed.

After saying her goodnights to her parents, Chihiro dragged her feet upstairs and into her room. She drew the curtains against a dark sky that was already beginning to clear of rain and slowly pulled herself into her pyjamas. She snuggled down under her duvet. No thought of falling out of windows or strange shadows occurred to her; they had been eagerly forgotten for now.

She slept peacefully. It would be the last time for a while.


	2. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being way longer than it should have, but I didn’t really want to split it into two.  
> I’m still not 100% happy with it, and I might rewrite it later. But I hope you enjoy it.

The morning broke bright and clear. No sign of the previous day’s storm lingered in the blue and cloudless sky. Chihiro woke to a blinding ray of sunlight shining through a gap in the curtains, directly onto her face. She rolled over, groaning, and pulled the duvet up and over her head.

She was on the verge of drifting back into sleep when a sudden loud crash startled her from under her bed covers. Not knowing what the sound was, she grabbed her phone from under the pillow and pulled on her dressing gown, checking the time as she stumbled out of her room. Her phone screen happily announced that it was six-thirty in the morning. In other words: much too early. Another loud crash rang through the house, and Chihiro hurried down the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. 

Inside seemed to have been turned into a war-zone, where the main casualty had been a pile of documents. Great sheaths of paper spilled over the kitchen table, overflowing down to cover parts of the floor. Scrawled across each piece were writings and diagrams. Order forms for food vendors and decoration suppliers, notes to other residents of the town, and drawings of table configurations were just a handful that Chihiro could decipher. In the centre of the mess was her mum, sat at the table, her head resting in her hands. A half-filled mug of tea at her elbow had long gone cold.

“Need any help?” Chihiro asked as she picked her way through the mess to the kettle. Her mum startled at her voice, and her elbow knocked into the mug next to her. The cup tipped precariously on its edge for a moment before clicking back down onto the table. Tea sloshed threateningly but didn’t spill onto the paper underneath.

“Oh, Chihiro,” her mum gasped, placing a hand over her heart, “You shouldn’t scare me like that.” Her mum began to huff – and then began to cough. Any cheeky reply Chihiro had been about to give fled, and she left the boiling kettle to place her hand on her mum’s shoulder.

Yuuko reached up and gripped her daughter’s wrist as she rasped for air. The coughs slowed, and Chihiro’s mum cleared her throat. She patted Chihiro on the hand before waving her away. “I’m fine. The humidity just wasn’t too kind on my lungs last night,” she said hoarsely. She swallowed thickly before gesturing at the sea of paper around them, “No need to worry. I’m not going to keel over just yet, not while I still have all this to sort out. Maybe afterwards though, so I could get some undisturbed rest for once. I’m starting to be tempted by Mrs. Okai’s offer to take over next year. Who would have thought organising our little festival would be this stressful.”

Chihiro hummed in agreement but frowned as she turned and went back to pulling a couple of clean mugs from the cupboard. Her mum was joking, but it still worried Chihiro to hear her talk like that. She had always been a figure of resilience to Chihiro; head-strong and stubborn, she had encouraged Chihiro to grasp any opportunities that came her way. As a child, it had infuriated Chihiro, shy and reserved as she was. But as she aged and started to lay the paves for her own life ahead, she had learnt to appreciate the lessons her mum had freely given. It would have been much easier to listen to her advice than to learn the hard way, wasting money and time on people and situations that wouldn’t matter in a few years. That part of her mum was precious to Chihiro, especially in the past few years, so any sign of it fading to age and illness started a persistent ache in her heart. Recently, Chihiro had begun to realise neither of her parents would be around forever, and this sense of impending mortality lingered like a fog about her, stifling and unyielding.

But the kitchen, slowly filling with warm morning sunlight, was no place for such dark thoughts. And Chihiro busied herself with pouring hot water over the tea bags, sending her worries away as best she could with the rising steam. Her parents weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, and it was too early in the morning for such things.

So instead, she asked, "Can I help with anything? I thought you would have finished the festival organisation by now."

“There are always things to do. The final decorations need to go up today – all the balloons and paper signs had to be put on hold yesterday because of that dreadful storm. I haven’t finalised the table arrangements, either, and the caterers didn’t get back to me yesterday about what time they would be arriving by. I still need to get the rice bags ready for the farmers, too.”

“Do you want me to get the rice?” Chihiro suggested. But her mum was already shaking her head before she could finish.

“No, no. It’s already in the shed. I’ll get it out when the rest of the committee gets here for the tables at eight. I was able to get a good deal on the rice when your dad and I went to Kino last week; five bags of grain for half-price.” She sifted distractedly through the mess in front of her as she spoke.

“There is something you could do.” She looked slyly at Chihiro as she gathered a stack of paper together and pinned it with a small silver clip. “If you could go to the corner shop and get the balloons from Jin, it would be one less chore for me to catch up on. Besides, Kenji will be there, and it would be a good chance for you to catch up while he’s home for the festival. I saw him in town the other day; he’s grown up quite a bit from that little boy you and Mimi used to run with around the park. He’s a handsome young man, and you’ve always gotten along wonderfully together.”

“Mum, don’t,” Chihiro sighed. She placed a steaming mug on the table and gripped the other between her hands. She took a long drag of the warm tea as she leant back against the counter, determining it would be the safest place to leave the chaos of paper undisturbed.

“You need to get a move on, Chihiro. You won’t be young with a pretty face forever. By your age, I was already married to your father, and you were on your way. I want to see you happy. Kenji has always been a nice boy, and he would be good for you to settle down with – he has the job at his grandfather’s store, which he’ll be taking over in the next few years, so you won’t even have to move away.” She held out the stack of order forms towards Chihiro.

“Kenji will sell the store as soon as Jin passes it over to him,” Chihiro said as she reluctantly took the papers and tucked them under her arm. “He’s always hated that place, and he doesn’t get along with Jin, granddad or not. Why do you think he’s always travelling? The last place he wants to be is here.”

“Maybe he just needs to be given a reason to stay.”

Chihiro ignored her mum’s pointed looks as she finished her tea.

***

The small town was already waking up around her as Chihiro walked. It was only seven-thirty on a Saturday morning, but already curtains were being pulled back from sun-drenched windows. New vigour was given to the cracked and tarnished fronts of the older houses along the street, brightened by the anticipation of the evening’s celebrations. Doors opened, and neighbours gave a cheery, though tired, ‘good-morning’ to each other as they collected their newspapers and milk bottles. Others ignored each other as usual, but perhaps with a little less sourness.

Chihiro found herself greeted and waved to as she passed on her way. A familiar bubble of excitement fizzled in her stomach as the infectiously high spirits of the town worked its magic over her. The smell of crisping bacon and a wave of fresh buttery pastry chased after her as she turned a corner.

Ahead was the corner shop, squashed in at the crossroads between the florist and another row of houses. It was an old building, like most in the town, though obviously well cared for. The sign above the door proudly announcing _Liu Family Corner Convenience_ was free of dust, and a fresh layer of green paint coated the storefront. In the small window, a display of plush bears sat in a circle around a charity collection bucket for the children’s hospital in the next town over. Next to it was a crowded pin-board. It was filled with old flyers pinned over older adverts that curled at the corners, and a faded missing dog poster.

Chihiro stepped around a ‘wet paint’ sign and shoved the door open. It clacked against a cowbell strapped to the ceiling above, and a man similar in age to Chihiro quickly straightened from where he was slumped over the counter, scrolling through his phone. He tucked the phone into the front pocket of his apron and smiled brightly.

Kenji was attractive, Chihiro had to admit. He had dark hair on the right side of long: just enough to fall over his eyes and make you want to reach out and push it back, but not so long that it looked messy, or as if he had been on a spiritual journey and not washed for the last six weeks. His skin was enviously unblemished despite spending long days under the sun, and he was muscular without being bulky, showed off by the form-fitting shirt underneath his apron. Paired with his lazy smile, he had a look of relaxed perfection.

It was for this reason that Chihiro couldn’t even think about dating him.

Each part of his looks had been carefully constructed: from the charming smile she had seen practised countless times in the mirror, to the haircut many a hairdresser had cursed him over as he piled reference pictures on them. Chihiro cared about how she looked, but Kenji’s vanity exceeded her understanding. Even as he moved around the counter, his eyes strayed to a mirror hanging on the wall, and he smoothed down already salon-pristine hair.

“Your skirt should be taken in at the waist a bit,” Kenji said as he reached her. “I could give you Deidre’s card, though she’s reduced her hours for over summer, so you might need to wait until next month.”

“Deidre told you to never go to her again after the fifth time you complained about her tailoring. Remind me of your last reason. I remember it being something to do with the left trouser leg being three millimetres too wide.” Chihiro shot back. It was Kenji’s favourite way to greet her, with some comment on her clothes or hair. It no longer bothered her as much as it had when they were teenagers and she had been trying out some questionable styles. Her neon legging phase had been a particular favourite of his for making fun of her.

“We’re talking about your clothes, not mine. And Deidre was only threatening to blacklist me. She doesn’t like to show it, but she loves me, I can tell. Besides, where else am I meant to find someone in this town who understands that a girl can tell a lot about a man by the way his clothes fit? I’m not going to let a baggy shirt ruin my chances with a nice girl.”

Chihiro rolled her eyes. ‘Nice’ to Kenji meant rich. “Maybe you shouldn’t be dating the kind of girl that’s going to be offended by your shirts then.”

“Who should I date then? You?” He leant on the shelf behind him, almost knocking off a bag of charcoal, and turned the full force of his smile on her. Chihiro could easily see how he had charmed many a girl. Nothing else seemed to matter to him at that moment; that smile made her feel like she was his sole focus. It was just a shame the rest of him wasn’t so enchanting.

Chihiro scoffed and stuck her tongue out at him. It was childish, but she didn’t care, she was allowed to be when she was around Kenji. “No. I don’t think my apartment has enough cupboard space for your hairspray.”

“That’s a shame. I like your tiny two-windowed apartment that always smells like the Chinese restaurant across the road. I already had an idea of where my TV would go,” he teased, wide-eyed in poorly feigned sadness, though it didn’t last long before his smile broke through again. “Anyway, what can I get for you? I’m guessing it’s something festival related.”

“You’d guess right. Mum sent me for the balloons.” Chihiro passed over the order forms, and Kenji leafed through them as he weaved through the shelves and disappeared behind a rusting screen door into the back of the shop. There was a shuffling followed by an ominous crash before a wall of inflated balloons bobbed out from the same door.

Chihiro could only see his trainer clad feet underneath the mass of white and blue plastic. Kenji carefully picked his way down the aisle to her, the balloons occasionally nudging something on the shelf but never knocking anything off. “Here you go,” he said as he placed them next to Chihiro, “all one-hundred-and-thirty of them. No expenses spared.”

Each balloon had been tied to a length of blue string and then anchored to a small weight. Chihiro batted a balloon away as it swung towards her face. “I didn’t realise there would be this many,” she muttered as she began gathering the strings.

Kenji looked at her strangely. “There’s no one with you? It was supposed to be a job for two people. I can lend an extra set of hands to get them to your house. The shop’s not exactly busy; it never is on festival day.” The shop was, in fact, deserted, and any foot-traffic that passed by outside never glanced towards the small shop. “It would be nice to visit your parents,” he added.

Chihiro nodded eagerly. There was no way she was going to be able to do this in one trip on her own. Her mother was too conniving for her own good.

Kenji grinned, but it quickly faded, leaving him looking uncharacteristically sombre. “How is Mamma Ogino?”

Chihiro warmed at the pet name Kenji had used for her Mum since they were kids. He had come to be a second child of sorts to her parents, something she knew they treasured after never being able to have another of their own.

Since Kenji’s twelfth birthday, he had become a part of their family. His parent’s gift to him had been to drop him off at Jin’s shop with a small suitcase of clothes and a note to Jin that he was now responsible for Kenji. Chihiro’s mum had been near the shop when he was left on the pavement, staring at a big red ‘closed’ sign as his parents – and any life he once knew – drove away from him. The shop had been closed for the weekend and Jin away on a fishing trip. Her mum had quickly swept him under her arm and brought him home, where he had immediately broken down in tears.

Jin had been in for a surprise when he returned the next day, and he initially refused to take Kenji in. Only a large amount of cajoling and borderline blackmailing from Chihiro’s parents convinced him otherwise. They tried to keep it quiet, so, naturally, the whole town soon knew. For months Kenji was shadowed by pitying looks and followed to school by the hushed clucking of old women as they muttered: _oh, look at the poor dear; his parents abandoned him, you know_.

Eventually, the news became old, and newer scandals took its place. But it took a long time before Kenji could move on from the memory of those few months, and even now, years later, it still hung over him whenever he returned to town.

“Not great,” Chihiro answered, “She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. They’re going to try a new medication to prevent infections, but nothing seems to be helping. It’s just waiting to see if this one works.”

A heavy silence settled between them, and they pulled the balloons through the shop door in silence. Each was distracted with their thoughts as they walked together down the pavement. The balloons bounced merrily around them as they went.

They turned the corner and stopped to let two people turn down an alleyway that served as a passage to a brick courtyard behind the houses. Chihiro could hardly see them through the cloud of balloons that floated around her, but she could make out their hooded sweatshirts and loose jeans. One carried a bucket of paint that had splashed their gloved hand, leaving red streaks on the white latex. Chihiro thought it strange that someone had hired painters to come today of all days when the roads were closed. But the unfamiliar painters were just as soon forgotten in favour of gazing around the street in wonder.

In the short amount of time Chihiro had been inside the shop, the street had come alive with festivities. There was an assortment of paper decorations strung outside houses and signs plastered in windows. Shimmering cut-outs of suns dangled from lampposts, and posters – some simple blessings written in neat black ink, others filled with the colourful scribble and ramblings of a child’s hand – hung from doors.

The grave atmosphere between the two friends evaporated under the joy of the lively town. They chattered happily to each other as they went. The sun warmed their skin, and a fresh breeze danced across their faces, ensuring they never became too hot. They arrived at Chihiro’s home in what seemed to be no time.

They stuffed their armfuls through the door, and Chihiro’s mum appeared from the living room to direct them to the kitchen. Chihiro’s dad sat at the table, a newspaper open in front of him.

Once they were free of their burdens, her mum wrapped Kenji in a tight hug before pushing them both down into chairs. The kitchen had gone under a miraculous clean up since Chihiro left about an hour ago, and only a single stack of papers remained piled on a corner of the table.

“I’m glad you were able to manage. I almost kicked myself when I realised I’d ordered double what I thought I had. It really should have been a job for two. It’s a good job that Kenji was there to help, wasn’t it, Chihiro,” Yukko said as she buzzed about the kitchen, placing cups of tea in front of them on the table, followed by a slice of cake for each of them. She already wore her neatly pressed blue vest that announced her as a committee member. Written in bold across the back was _Team Leader_.

“Yes, I was very fortunate. I don’t know what I would have done if Kenji hadn't come to the rescue,” Chihiro answered dryly. She stuck her tongue out at Kenji when her mum turned away, and Kenji grinned back, using his finger to turn up his nose at her. They both straightened when Yukko turned back towards them. Her dad watched this over his newspaper and shook his head, though the edges of his lips twitched upwards.

“It’s alright, Mama Ogino, I don’t mind helping out. It gave me an excuse to visit you.” Yukko’s eyes took on a slight shine, and she squeezed Kenji’s shoulder, unable to speak. Chihiro internally rolled her eyes. Leave it to Kenji to make her mum all weepy.

Akio placed his newspaper down and faced Kenji, “You never need an excuse to come see us. You know you’re always welcome.” Kenji nodded as his cheeks darkened slightly. He asked Yukko about the jobs still needing to be done before eleven, and the conversation turned to decorations and food.

Time soon passed on, and the clock read eight when a sharp knock came from the front door. The planning committee spilled into the kitchen, and Chihiro and Kenji squeezed out into the hallway as the room became unbearably full. Kenji turned to her and jabbed his thumb towards the door. “I’d best get back to the store. Jin’s already going to be mad enough that I left at all, no point in poking the dragon by spending any longer out. I’ll already need to skip my break today; he’ll want me to make up the time. Not that I regret helping you,” he assured her as he shuffled towards the door.

Chihiro followed him and hesitated for a moment as he opened the door. Just as he was about to step out, she blurted, “I’ll see you at the festival later, won’t I? Even just for a drink. Jin can’t keep you at the store all night.”

Kenji looked at her strangely for a moment, and a small smile played at the edge of his lips. “I’d like that. Save me a dance,” he said, before ducking out the door. Chihiro watched as he bounded down the steps and through the front gate until he disappeared down the street, and she could no longer see him.

***

Chihiro sipped from her plastic cup and watched as her tipsy father pulled the clipboard from her mum’s hands and tugged her towards the make-shift dance floor in the middle of Main Street. Her mum protested weakly, pointing back to where she had been supervising at the edge of the party. They spun in a clumsy circle together, narrowly avoiding stepping painfully on each other’s toes under the night sky.

Chihiro couldn’t help but admire her dad’s ability to stay standing, never mind dancing. Her own head spun from the drinks passed around when the townspeople had seated themselves at the rows of plastic fold-out tables. She was almost positive her mum hadn’t arranged for the red tray of brightly coloured cocktails discreetly circulating the gathered crowd – but she wasn’t about to complain when her boredom outweighed any objections she might otherwise have had.

The farmer’s procession had gone as planned. The group of twenty-or-so farmers had marched through the streets, tossing handfuls of rice from small burlap bags strapped to their hips onto the doorsteps of houses. Above the town, the sun had seemed to shine brighter as they went, and the giggles of the young children skipping beside them had flittered through the air like summer butterflies. Once the farmers had disappeared down the hill towards the fields to sow the grain, the crowds lining the pavements departed for Main Street.

Chihiro had been swept along by her parents and found herself situated between them at a table. She had sat and eaten, and little else as the sun sunk painfully slow behind the horizon. Those seated around her had drifted away, and she was left alone, sipping her lukewarm drink.

Chihiro gazed around at the transformed Main Street. Strings of lights had replaced the bunting between the lampposts, and the dipping arcs of light cast a warm glow onto the street. Tables stood pushed end to end in two long lines like soldiers, waiting for the hungry people to take their fill from the buffet and rest at them. A random assortment of seats accompanied the tables; stools, benches, wicker seats, carved wood dining chairs, and even a scattering of armchairs.

However, the main attraction of the festival was the dance floor. It ran between the rows of tables, down the centre of the road, marked out by flaming torches. There was just enough space for the dancers, yet the gap was still narrow enough that an elbow might land in an unfinished bowl of gravy. It was filled with people, both young and old, swaying to some brassy song Chihiro didn’t recognise.

Suddenly a finger tapped on Chihiro’s shoulder. She turned quickly, spilling her drink down her arm, and stared at the figure under the shadows of the house eaves. “You were able to convince Jin to let you come?” she inquired when her eyes focused on the face hovering above her.

Kenji looked sheepish and stared out over the dancing crowd, refusing to meet her eyes. “I may have left a few bottles of vodka out in his kitchen. He’s probably snoring away in his chair by now, so he’s not going to notice that I’ve closed the shop early,” he answered slowly. Kenji dropped onto the seat next to her: a well-worn stool that placed him a head height below Chihiro. He had changed out of his apron, and instead wore a dress shirt untucked from a pair of blue jeans. The trainers on his feet were the same as he had been wearing earlier.

He grabbed the cup from her hand and replaced it with a napkin from a rumpled stack in the middle of the table. “You’re meant to drink that, not wear it.” He tipped the remainder of her drink into his mouth and swallowed it in one large gulp, before tossing the empty cup onto the table. “You looked like you were having such fun moping in the corner that I decided to join you.”

Chihiro glared darkly at him. She wasn’t having the most thrilling time of her life, but she hadn’t been moping. Well, maybe a little bit. But that wasn’t the point. “A pity party never hurt anybody,” she said.

“No, but it’ll give you wrinkles,” Kenji argued. He tilted his head to the side as if evaluating her skin. “More wrinkles, I should say, in your case. You shouldn’t frown like that: it makes them worse,” he added. Chihiro straightened her face and prodded at the fine lines on her forehead. Kenji laughed.

“You’re awful,” Chihiro said and threw her used napkin at his head. It bounced off his nose and tumbled under the table. “If you’re going to be mean, leave me alone to my sulking. But if you want to get me another drink and keep me company for a while, you can stay – it’s your choice.”

A woman stumbled into their table and caused them both to startle at the noise. They had leant towards each other as they spoke, and they sat back under the squinting eyes of the woman bearing down at them. Her dull grey hair sat piled on top of her head, apart from the frizzy locks pulled out to curl about her face; glass gem pins stuck out of the tall construction at random intervals, like a magpie’s jumbled nest. When the woman turned into the light, Chihiro could see that it was Mrs. Okai. “Have you ssseen Annie?” Mrs. Okai slurred. She had obviously made good use of the free drinks. “She was meant to be at the feassst to keep me company, but I’ve seen no sssign of that uselessss girl all night.”

Both Kenji and Chihiro shook their heads. Neither had seen Mrs. Okai’s daughter, though both suspected she might have been avoiding her mother. Mrs. Okai wobbled away in her ridiculously high shoes, and as she went, she plucked her dress from where it had become trapped by her rotund bottom.

“A classier town you won’t find anywhere,” Kenji said as they watched Mrs. Okai harass a group of dancers. She was waving her arm wildly towards the row of houses behind her and seemed to be trying to pull along one of the young men. Her missing daughter already seemed forgotten. 

“It’s not that bad,” Chihiro felt the need to say. But she didn’t sound convincing to her own ears, and Kenji raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

“It’s bad enough for Mimi to leave without a trace. And we’re not exactly ones for sticking around here. Once Mama Ogino is on the mend, you’ll be going back to your apartment, won’t you?” Kenji said.

“I suppose,” Chihiro began. “Though I don’t think I’m going to be able to go back for a while yet. I need to make sure everything is fine here first. Mum’s happy for me to stay as long as I like since she hates that I’m living alone. She seems to think I’m going to be kidnapped or murdered every time I step out of my apartment.” They both smiled at this. Chihiro’s mum famously hated cities. When they had last gone altogether, she had made both Chihiro and Kenji keep a tight grip on the straps of her backpack throughout. It had been embarrassing for them both as fifteen year olds to be holding onto her mother like toddlers. “You’ll probably leave before me. Where will you be heading for this time?”

“Continental Europe; a university classmate invited me to go interrailing with him next month. We’re meeting at his home in Spain, and then heading north for the Netherlands, then towards Norway. A week in Amsterdam will be good for a bit of relaxation.” Kenji gave her a roughish wink.

Chihiro did _not_ want to think about Kenji’s idea of a good week in Amsterdam. Not when she could still picture him as a chubby-faced twelve-year-old.

“Have you told Jin yet?”

“Ah. No. Not yet, anyway. I’m getting round to it.” Kenji frowned. “He’s not going to like it.”

“He doesn’t like many things, but you shouldn’t keep it from him.”

Chihiro jumped when Kenji gave a harsh, short laugh that lacked any humour. “Why not? I’m an adult now. It’s not like he can tell me what to do anymore. He can’t keep me in that rundown old shop for the rest of my life.” Chihiro knew she had crossed a line and nodded and let the subject drop. The last thing she wanted to do was get into an argument. She didn’t want to lose another friend because she was sticking herself into situations that didn’t concern her.

Kenji let out a long breath, and he rolled his shoulders, easing the muscles of tension. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to be miserable. You promised to keep a dance for me. Or had you forgotten?” Kenji stood and stuck a hand out towards her. Despite his meticulous upkeep of appearance, his palm was still calloused and rough in places from working in the shop. It was also shaking slightly, and he avoided her gaze as if he were nervous about what her answer would be.

Chihiro found she was suddenly unable to think. There was a feeling of something more to this moment than she could understand as Kenji looked down at her. There was a strange look in his eyes. All the care she knew he felt for her was there, but also an undertone – one Chihiro wasn’t sure she wanted to decipher. It felt as if she was about to dive headfirst from an ocean cliff, not knowing if rocks awaited her underneath the waves below. But it felt right for her to take Kenji’s hand, like pieces of her life were connecting and filling in the gaps of a puzzle. Everything with Kenji had always been like that: so comfortable and so warm. She stood slowly, and her head felt light when Kenji grinned.

She was about to place her hand in his when a startled shout came from the dance floor. It was too far and the crowd too dense for her to see who had cried out, and why. But the shout was followed by another. And then another. Kenji leapt up onto his stool, and he looked out over the crowd. His eyes widened, and his lips pulled back grimly.

Kenji jumped down and grabbed Chihiro’s hand. He started to guide here quickly away from the tables, but Chihiro pulled her hand from his grip. “What could you see?”

“Chihiro, we need to go. Now. People are here, they’re – ”

He was drowned out by a great crack as if lightning had struck, and a plume of fire rose into the sky.

It was as if Hell had surfaced. The shouts morphed to screams, and they echoed shrilly in Chihiro’s ears as hot embers rained down. The crowd surged away from the fire. Trapped on either side by overloaded tables, they pushed and fled from the end of the rows away from the wall of flames. Others spilled themselves over the tables, knocking food and discarded paper plates to the ground. Smoke rose in billows into the night.

The heat from the sudden blaze warmed Chihiro’s face, and her eyes watered from smoke as she stared into the chaos. Kenji was at her elbow, shouting over the tumult. “We’re going to head for the forest behind your house, alright?”

“No, not yet.” Chihiro shook her head and turned to Kenji. Desperation churned sickeningly in her stomach. “My parents. I need to find them first; I’m not leaving without them,” she said thickly.

As she spoke, there was another outburst of screams, this time much closer. Chihiro turned and saw three figures stood at the ends of the rows of tables, preventing people from fleeing. They were all attired similarly in the loose-fitting clothes of the two painters that had disappeared into the alleyway that morning.

One woman pushed forward, and Chihiro recognised her as a farmer from the procession. She shoved against the person blocking the centre. The painter didn’t shift, and the woman stumbled back with her momentum. The painter raised their hand, and the white latex glove fell away.

The hand was human in shape – but that was where any similarity ended. Skin mottled grey and cracked with deep fissures stretched across long thin fingers and a sunken palm. Its fingernails were long and sharp and curled like hooked claws. The hand rose and pushed the hood of the jumper back. Revealed from the hidden recess was a face of the same grey and cracked skin. White wisps of brittle hair stuck out in patches on top of its head, and its eye sockets were sunken into its skull and housed eyes of shining orange. In place of a mouth was a white beak, which opened and let loose a string of soft hisses.

Its strange language sent a chill up Chihiro’s spine. The two creatures on either side of it lowered their hoods and let their gloves fall to the floor. Both were alike the first.

The creature in the middle struck at the woman with its claws. She fell back, clutching her throat. Deep ruby drops of blood flooded between her fingers, and she collapsed to the ground.

Panic seized the crowd.

With a cry, people threw themselves away from the fire that ate through the tables towards them. The rush caused those at the front to stagger forwards. They were received with open arms by the creatures and soon joined the woman on the ground, their necks open and weeping.

Chihiro watched with horror as the creatures began to advance into the crowd. They tore down any person close to them. Young or old; they all fell the same.

A pair of hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her to the ground. She pushed and scratched against her captor until a voice hissed in her ear, “Quit it. I don’t think they’ve noticed us yet, but your screeching isn’t going to let that last.”

Kenji. She had forgotten he was with her.

She nodded, and the arms loosened around her. “I need to find my parents. They’re in there somewhere,” she whispered. Screams and the heavy thud of bodies dropping to the road continued behind her. She didn’t dare turn and look. She shuffled around, careful to make no noise, and Kenji’s arms fell away.

Kenji looked as bad as she felt. His eyes had lost their shine and were bloodshot – from smoke or fear, Chihiro couldn’t tell. Ash dotted his mussed hair, and he swayed as he crouched. “We’ll find them,” he promised. But there was doubt in his eyes. They both knew there was the possibility her parents had already joined the ranks of cold bodies on the road.

“We need to get further down the tables. There’s a gap there between the houses that leads down the hill to the forest.” Kenji pointed to a narrow gap between houses. It was at least five table lengths away, and already the fire rapidly approached.

“If we can see your parents, we grab them and run. If we don’t see them – ” Chihiro shook her head violently, and Kenji rubbed her arm soothingly. He continued remorselessly, “If we can’t find them, we need to keep going. You know they wouldn’t want us to stay here. They might have already got away and are waiting for us somewhere; you can call them once we’re in the forest.”

Chihiro nodded reluctantly. Running blindly through the crowd looking for her parents would help no one. Her head felt numb, and it was taking all her effort to remember to breathe. If she had just kept an eye on her parents, watched them dance and be happy, they could have been making their escape together.

Kenji gave her leg one final reassuring pat before he turned to the left and started to crawl down the line of tables. She followed after him.

The air became muggier and hotter as they got closer to the fire, and the ceaseless roar of flames replaced the panicked voices and running footsteps. Sweat beaded on Chihiro’s skin and ran down her back in rivulets. Her eyes stung, and dirt stuck to her damp hands as she crawled. The heat haze burned her eyes each time she looked up to see how much further they had to go.

Three table lengths.

Two lengths.

One.

Chihiro glanced under each table they passed, looking for any sign of her parents. But there was none.

The gap was only a few feet away when Kenji stopped and looked back at her, and she knew what he was thinking. They were about to run.

Springing to their feet, they raced over the road and jumped up the curb onto the pavement. The fire burned against their backs, and Chihiro felt the fine hairs on her arms curling in the heat. As fast as they dared, they ran across the short distance and made it unnoticed to the passageway. The shadows of the houses were a cold relief, and the stone walls pleasantly chilled.

“It’s not far from here,” Kenji whispered as he slid between the houses, having to turn sideways to fit. Chihiro was about to slip through when she glanced back and paused.

Across the opposite side of the table they had used to hide, her dad slumped in a chair. His head rested on his chest, and his breathing was slow and steady, as if in a deep sleep. Her mum was at his side, pulling his arm and urging him to stand, but he never stirred. Both were drenched in sweat from the fire only a few feet away.

Chihiro pinched Kenji’s arm, and he twisted around in the small passage. She pointed towards her parents. Kenji’s eyes widened, and he stepped back towards the street but stopped short when out of the thick black smoke behind her parents appeared one of the creatures. It must have made a sound, because Chihiro’s mum turned suddenly, and looked up at the blood-stained creature that advanced towards her.

Instead of cowering, she stood tall and proud next to her husband. But even as she stood defiantly opposite the creature, she trembled with weakness. Her skin was ashen, and she had a hand pressed against her chest in a way Chihiro had seen her do many times over the past months.

Never did she waver as the creature drew close, even as she fought for each breath in her lungs. She lifted a protective hand over her husband, denying the creature access to its easy target. The creature stopped for a moment, tilting its head to the side. For a moment, it looked as if it were about to disappear back into the screen of smoke: it rocked back on its feet and swung its arms to the side.

As the creature twisted itself, Chihiro realised that it was not turning to leave, but instead getting ready to swing its arms in another deadly attack. She lunged away from the passage towards her parents.

“No! Don’t touch them!” She shouted.

But it was too late.

The creature swung, and its claws sunk through her mum’s neck. Chihiro saw the look of mingled surprise and horror cross her mum's face as she crumpled to the ground at the feet of the creature.

“NO!” Chihiro leapt across the pavement towards her mother, but arms locked around her. She struggled against Kenji’s grip. “No! I need to go to my mum. Let me go, please!”

Surely her mum would stand up in a moment. She would stand and face down the creature wiping clean its claws on its tattered sweatshirt. They would be able to run together: her mum, her dad, and Kenji – they would be safe together.

She didn’t stand.

“It’s too late, Chihiro. I’m sorry, we can’t do anything,” Kenji croaked over her cries. His eyes fixed on the still body of her mother, and the arms wrapped around Chihiro shook.

The creature finished with its victim, and it turned to Chihiro’s dad. Chihiro stopped breathing. “Dad, run! Please,” she sobbed. But it was fruitless. Her dad dozed on in his unnatural sleep.

The creature cast him to the ground with a swipe of its hand. It stepped back and beckoned with a crooked finger towards the fire as to a faithful pet. With a strange grace, the flames surged and engulfed the bodies of her parents.

Chihiro wailed as any remnant of her parents was lost under a blanket of hot white flame. The sound attracted the creature’s attention, and it turned its piercing orange eyes towards them.

The creature’s eyes flickered over her, and keenness overcame its gaze. It twittered and clacked its beak in agitated excitement, before giving a shrill call – the other creatures, still guarding the bottle-neck created by the tables, turned their heads towards the sound.

Each pair of unsettling eyes bore down on her. Kenji swore loudly.

As the creature in front of them slipped past the table and stalked towards them, Chihiro was unable to move. A deep void took root over her heart, and any sense of self-preservation had fled from her. She was aware of Kenji’s hurried chatter in her ear and his harsh grip on her arm, but it seemed to come from a far-off and foggy place. “Chihiro. Chihiro! Come on,” he begged, “We can’t stay. I’m sorry, but we can’t if we want any chance of getting away alive.”

It was a painful realisation, but she knew he was right; there was nothing she could do for her parents now. It would be foolhardy and the exact opposite of what her parents would be telling her to do.

And she would endanger Kenji.

That thought was enough to make her turn away from the advancing creature and force her stiff legs to move. Kenji slipped his hand into Chihiro’s and hurried her through the gap between the buildings. Ducking under pipes and stepping over an upturned crate, they scrambled through. They stumbled down a short flight of stone steps and burst out onto a small grass plain. On the other side of the plain, the dark wall of the forest loomed above them. No star pierced through the sickly smoke hanging in the sky.

From behind came a sharp scratching sound, and Chihiro glanced back to see the creatures clawing through the small pass. They shoved and snapped their beaks at each other as they fought to be in the lead. Two pushed at each other as they both struggled to exit at the same time. The third attempted to climb over but was knocked back each time by the swipe of the other’s hand.

As they slipped hand-in-hand into the forest, Chihiro felt strangely hollow, as if a piece of her had been unable to cross under the trees. She knew it was the part of her that would remain behind and burn along with the town and her parents: a childish, naive part she could no longer keep. She would be changed.

Like a bird in its final flight, they flew through the trees. Weaving left and right, they avoided collisions with low hanging branches and crashed through bracken and shrub. There was no sound of pursuit behind them, but Chihiro wasn’t foolish enough to assume they weren’t being followed. They soon came across a dirt track and Kenji pulled her along it. It had once been paved with stone, and every few steps smooth rocks peeked out from under the dust. From Chihiro’s treks through the familiar woods, she knew it would lead them to the town on the other side of the forest.

A fallen log blocked their path, but with hardly a break in stride, they both leapt over it. Chihiro was glad she had kept up jogging after university, and for the adrenaline that coursed through her. She probably would have fallen flat on her face in exhaustion after the first few meters otherwise.

It may have been too soon to congratulate herself, because, in the next moment, she was sprawled on the ground, her face resting against the dirt track. 

A broken limb poking out from the trunk had snagged Kenji’s foot. And with their hands still linked, Chihiro had been pulled to the ground after him. She sat up carefully, and her ankle twinged from where it had rolled under her as she fell.

Kenji rolled onto his back next to her. His chest rose and fell quickly, and his eyes were squeezed shut.

Chihiro crawled over to him and shook his shoulder. “Kenji, are you alright? You need to get up,” she said in between panting breaths.

Kenji groaned and turned onto his front. As he tried to press his body up, his arms shook like thin twigs in a storm. “Kenji?” she asked. Concern coloured her voice, and Kenji struggled to turn his head towards her, still lying on the ground. His hair fell haphazard over his face, and he fought to keep his eyes open. Mud streaked up the side of his cheek. It was the most mussed Chihiro had seen him since the age of fourteen.

His voice was raw and catching as he whispered, “Chihiro, go. If you keep running north, you’ll reach the next town in about twenty minutes. I think they lost track of us; they won’t be able to catch up if you go now.”

Chihiro jumped as something rustled in the undergrowth, expecting a pale grey face to loom out of the trees. A cuckoo darted out of the shadows and across the path, disappearing once more.

“This isn’t the time to be making jokes – you need to get up,” Chihiro argued. She didn’t know why Kenji was behaving this way. He had been his usual self at the party, and she couldn’t see any injury from their fall. Though he had drunk more than she had, their flight through the forest should have chased away any grogginess brought on by the alcohol. It had for her.

Kenji forced his eyes open, and his words slurred as his head dipped to rest on the ground. “Something’s wrong,” he murmured, “I’m so tired, and everything feels numb. I can’t even move my legs.”

“Then I’ll help you. Just stand up, and you can lean on me.” Kenji hummed and pushed again at the ground. Chihiro grabbed under his arm and heaved with all her might. It wasn’t enough, and Kenji folded back onto the dirt under him.

“Try again,” Chihiro begged. She tugged at his arm, trying to pull him upright. But he shook her hand off with a groan.

“Chihiro, please, go. I’ll hide once you’re gone, alright?” The lie hung in the air like a too-sweet perfume. Chihiro wanted to believe him, but Kenji could hardly lift his head: there was no way he would be able to drag himself into a hiding place in time. He continued, “You need to go. Those things could be here any minute – these woods aren’t that big.”

Realisation hit Chihiro like a freight train. Kenji wasn’t going to get up, and they were running out of time. Each rustle of dry leaves caused Chihiro to startle violently.

“I can’t.” She sobbed. “I’m not leaving you here for them to find. We’re both getting away. I’ll carry you. ”

Kenji snorted and said, “I’m too heavy; you won’t be able to do it.” Chihiro opened her mouth to argue, and he reached a shaking hand out and rested it on her knee. She felt the beginning of tears burn behind her eyes. Like the rest of his skin, it had turned a sickly pale. Chihiro grasped his hand between hers, and he gave her fingers a weak squeeze. She pressed back, willing some strength back into it.

“Chihiro, I need you to do this for me, just this one little thing: keep running. It’s alright, don’t cry. I’m gonna go see Mama Ogino and Akio. I’ll tell them you love them...that we both do.” Kenji’s eyes dipped closed. “I wish we had more time together. I was looking forward to that dance, you know. God, I’m so tired,” he breathed.

Chihiro shook him roughly. She didn’t want to believe what was happening. He was OK just moments ago. And she couldn’t lose him too, not like this, and not to those _things_.

His eyelids opened halfway, and his eyes rolled; unfocused, and glassy. For a moment, they stilled on Chihiro’s face. “Go,” he slurred.

His eyes closed, and no amount of shaking or crying out his name made them open again. He breathed soundly in a deep sleep.

One by one, as she crouched next to the unconscious body of her best friend, three pairs of orange eyes appeared in the shadows and pointed their eerie glow down at her.

She should have stayed, should have kept him safe. She might have been able to save his life.

But she was a coward. And she ran.

She fled through the trees. Branches whipped her face and cut her palms, tangled her hair, and pulled at her clothes. Though they made little sound, she caught glances of the three creatures; one at each side and one behind her. She was their lamb, and they, her shepherds.

Left. Right. Up a bank. Down a plunging drop.

The forest became a backdrop for a spectacular race; one Chihiro didn’t want to know the bets for. Her feet beat against the bracken, and she turned and twisted, trying to lose them in the dark thickets.

But they kept pace. She lost a shoe.

Bursting through a dense patch of trees, Chihiro collided with a solid object and barrelled over it. She lay where she fell. Her legs and stomach ached, and her hip burned fiercely where it had taken most of the impact. She was starting to get sick of finding herself with a face full of dirt.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight, anticipating the soft footfalls and clacking of beaks. But silence prevailed. She’d lost them.

Chihiro opened her eyes and pushed herself up until she was cross-legged. She sat in the middle of a clearing. Uncultivated grass swayed in a gentle breeze, and wildflowers peeked from in between the blades, their petals open wide for the night sky. To one side, a red building towered over her. A clock depressed into the peeling front had half-rusted hands frozen in an eternal midnight, and a dark tunnel stretched away through the base of the building. It was too dark to see any end, but a warm midsummer breeze swept out of the tunnel and stirred through the clearing.

On her other side was the perpetrator of her bruised rump: a squat stone statue, carved with a goblin-like face. A coat of moss spread across the foot of the figure and crept along the surrounding ground – as if the strange carving had grown out of the landscape. It seemed to grin down at her, and on a more childish impulse, Chihiro flipped her middle finger up at it. The statue continued leering at her, and Chihiro got to her feet with a huff, brushing dirt from her jeans.

“What now?” she whispered to the empty clearing, more for the sake of filling the silence than a need for an answer – though she wouldn’t have minded one. The soft chirp of night insects was her only answer.

Suddenly, there was the snap of a branch, and she whirled around to the pale grey faces of the creatures peering from the tree edge. They clicked their beaks and paced up and down, seemingly unwilling to cross into the clearing. Her stomach plummeted in dread.

Okay, so she wasn’t out of the woods yet – no pun intended.

Chihiro stumbled away from the trees. The creatures watched her and shifted noiselessly, as if unhappy she was moving away from them, but stayed within the tree line.

She glanced around for some form of escape. Why did she have to run into a dead-end? There were so many paths she could have taken. She didn’t even know where she was. Never had she dared wander this far into the ancient woods. Tales from her dad of murderers and kidnappers had kept her on the well-trodden paths, and she regretted not being more adventurous.

She tried to calm her frantic mind. She didn’t know how long the creatures would stay back, and she was short on escape plans.

In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the tunnel. It was the logical choice, but she didn’t know what lay at the other end. She knew that it could be blocked from a cave-in or have been left unfinished with no exit, leading her nowhere but a cold cave, ready for when the creatures overcame their reluctance. The direction of the wind shifted, and it whispered down the tunnel as if inviting her into the depths. Surely if it were blocked further in, no breeze would be able to come or go. Her thoughts turned to air shafts and vents, but she couldn’t see any other option. She took a step towards the entrance.

The creatures each let out a scream of fury. The noise rebounded off the trees, and Chihiro covered her ears.

The shrieking of the creatures grew louder as she moved towards the tunnel, and they thrust themselves into the clearing – only to be thrown back by some unseen force. Soon as they set foot on the long grass, they were thrown off their feet and returned inside the line of trees.

Chihiro didn't stick around to find out what kept her from being ripped to shreds, and she hobbled towards the tunnel. Her ankle and hip ached, and she struggled to see into the gloom in front of her. She paused for a moment as a sense of dark foreboding overcame her. But surely nothing past the dilapidated building could be worse than the hell she was leaving.

She stumbled through the tunnel, blind in her desperation to flee the howling shrieks behind her.


	3. Ferries, Markets, and Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, it was a lot of trial and error to get this how I wanted.  
> Thank you to everyone that left comments and kudos and bookmarked, I really appreciate it - virtual hugs to you all.

The rounded sides of the tunnel echoed back the sharp taps of Chihiro’s footsteps. She wished she’d worn something more comfortable than the kitten heels that dug into her feet. She’d only worn them twice: once to her university graduation, and then to Mimi’s birthday party last year (about halfway through the night of dancing she had changed into the flats stuffed into her evening bag, but she figured it still counted). Every part of her throbbed with each step she took. Whenever her foot struck the ground, stabs of pain travelled up her body and culminated in a spectacular headache that felt like someone had shoved a knife through her temples and jiggled it around a bit.

She could barely see the hand stretched out in front of her, guiding her into the dark, and making sure she didn’t run face-first into any hidden object. Her other hand trailed across the cold stone of the wall. She was fairly certain that the path led straight, and that the ground neither dipped nor rose beneath her – though she couldn’t be sure.

“Just keep going; it can’t be much longer,” she whispered. Her words echoed back to her: a hundred tinny sighs encouraging her along.

Eventually, a pin-prick of grey light appeared far ahead. Or it at least looked to be far. She wasn’t certain, because as she continued to stumble her way through, the window of light seemed to grow and ebb. It was almost as if she was wandering towards the strange beating heart of the tunnel. The breeze tugging at her clothes seemed like a long indrawn breath, and Chihiro could imagine some great beast hidden far in the stone passage, deep in sleep. Chihiro blinked rapidly, trying to focus her eyes on the light.

With her next step, a sudden unbearable pressure crushed against her chest. Chihiro stumbled in surprise at the tightness, and she fell against the wall; a lethargic weakness crept into her limbs. Each breath she drew was leaden and sharp.

 _I must be dying_ , she thought. Because surely she couldn’t survive the vice-like grip around her chest that squeezed the air out of her lungs and made her bones ache. With each breath it tightened like a band twisting around her middle. She curled down against her legs, willing any oxygen into her body, and she began to accept with certainty that she wouldn’t breathe again. This dark, cold place would be as far as she would get.

She wanted to laugh. Or cry.

Almost as soon as the last of her breath wheezed from her spasming lungs, the pressure subsided. The grip on her chest didn’t ease immediately – it faded like a cruel hand, relaxing a single finger at a time until Chihiro was once more able to breathe.

“What was that?” she croaked. She had already been tired and sore, but now her legs trembled like she had run three university marathons with a full hiking backpack on. She unfolded herself and straightened slowly. There was none of the expected twinges or burn in her chest as she moved, and it was almost as if she had imagined the phantom pain. Chihiro stared at the sight ahead of her, not quite sure if she believed what she was seeing.

Where once there had been a strange grey light far in the distance, an archway now stood, only a few feet away. Chihiro took a cautious step, fearful of the crushing pain returning, and peeked into the cavernous room on the other side.

A high window admitted long rays of silver moonlight into what looked to be an empty train station waiting room. Benches stood neatly between pillars that arched towards a ceiling that rose far above Chihiro’s head; in the centre stood a dais, a sundial rising from it. Circling the base of the dais was a small compass sketched into the stone floor. On the far side of the room, opposite to Chihiro, a set of heavy wooden doors stood ajar, allowing fresh night air to drift through, bringing with it the promise of open space – a welcome relief from the tunnel’s damp must. Past the wooden doors, a grey ocean of grass rolled away under the moons steely glow.

A thick blanket of dust had settled across the room, and ragged spiders webs crept between crevices. The room looked to have been undisturbed by living souls for decades.

That was likely to be why Chihiro had never heard of a train station so close to her childhood home. Abandoned, the building had become a shadow that no memory could attach itself to. Chihiro couldn’t help but feel a strange pity for the squalid place. Back in its days of use, it would have been charming – filled with cheer and bustle. Now it lay cold and empty.

Unwilling to linger much longer in the archway, Chihiro hurried through the room. There was a reverence to the air, and she kept her feet light and quiet, which wasn’t hard with the soft grime and dust underfoot. By the time she crossed the not-so-trivial distance to the door, she was sweating and panting profusely. With no wall to support her, the weakness of her body was overwhelming, and darkness tinted the edges of her vision. She had pushed herself enough in running training to know when she was getting close to passing out.

 _Just a few more steps_ , she promised herself. A few more, and then she could rest.

She knew she couldn’t really spare a minute to rest. In all likelihood, the creatures were past whatever kept them at bay and were clawing their way through the tunnel. But it didn’t hurt to pretend.

Beyond the door was not, as she had first thought, a vast plain of grass, but instead the dark, undisturbed surface of a lake. Heavy mists drifted across the still surface, and Chihiro had the uneasy sense of something lurking just beyond the water’s inky edge, watching from between reeds and mud-beds. She stood on a grass bank only a few feet wide, which all of a sudden seemed much smaller and more insignificant against the great lake. The distant lights of towns flickered across the water, one directly ahead, the other somewhere to the left; both were far in the distance.

She felt a strange sense of familiarity, and for a moment, she thought of the dragon painting hanging in her office. There was something of memory in the twinkling lights across the expanse of water. She shook her head and pushed it aside for later. It was hardly the time for admiring the views. 

_What now, s_ he wondered. She couldn’t very well swim; the distance was much too far to either town, even when her stomach wasn’t trying to twist itself into intricate knots. The water itself was unwelcoming to her. She had the very distinct feeling of something watching her from the deep, anticipating the moment she so much as dipped a toe. The barren grass offered her no hiding place.

She needed a way to cross the water, or a hidden path to lead her away from the train station. But there was no bridge to cross or wood and vine to lash into a raft, and the grass bank only stretched around the doorway – no other path available. She looked around, wishing for something to spring out at her: some before unseen escape that would carry her away. But all she could see was the hopelessness of her situation.

Suddenly there came the light, pleasing ring of a bell. Sweet, jolly, exuberant; an odd comfort filled Chihiro at the sound. She turned eagerly towards the direction it came, and from the mists, a curious sight emerged.

Chugging its way across the lake towards her was a ferry. Bellows of steam fluttered from a clunking pipe high above the captain’s cabin, and the double-tier decks glowed with a golden halo of light. Its wooden paddles pattered through the water, sending small waves to lap at the grass. The ferry cut smoothly across the surface and glided to a stop in front of her. The tinkling bell sounded again, and a plank rattled out from the deck unassisted. With a great _thunk,_ it landed on the grass at Chihiro’s feet.

No passengers stood on either deck, and no faces peered from the windows of the dim passenger cabin in the centre. The ship’s bridge was too dark and high up to see who piloted the vessel.

The ferry was an odd sight to Chihiro, and she almost didn’t trust the convenience of it. It was as if the boat had come in answer to her wish. But, no, that was ridiculous. She had gotten incredibly lucky for the ferry to arrive at its stop when she needed it, and she couldn’t let a silly coincidence dissuade her. She was desperate for an escape, and going back was hardly an option. She still had some spare change in her pocket and hoped it would be enough to cover the fare as she stepped onto the wooden deck.

Chihiro wandered through the ferry, but the conductor was nowhere to be found on either deck, and she came across no other passenger to point her in the right direction. She stopped at the bow of the boat, the rising need to be sick ending her search. The conductor would find her eventually she figured, surely not letting a freeloader on their ship. On such an empty boat, and unwilling to move, she would be easy enough to find.

She pressed her forehead to the railing. The cool, spray soaked metal chased away the threatening faintness, and the acrid stench of salt and brine braced her rolling stomach as the boat lurched away from the shore. It was the first time she had been still since – she glanced at her watch – just over an hour. 

Only an hour. It had taken only an hour for her life to become completely ruined. A sob bubbled out of her throat, and she squeezed her eyes closed painfully tight. She wouldn’t cry, not yet.

Unbidden, her parents’ faces lingered behind her closed eyes. She had failed them, but Kenji...Kenji was worse. She had left him there, sallow as death and sprawled in the dirt, on a platter for those creatures. She felt a sickness that had little to do with the irregular rocking of the ferry.

They moved quickly through the dark water. Each time Chihiro opened her eyes, she thought she caught a glimpse of something swimming alongside them, just under the surface, before it darted back into the deep. She thought it might have been a fish, though it much longer and wider than any she had seen before. After only a few minutes, they came to a halt against a flight of stone steps, and Chihiro pulled herself up from the railing.

She didn’t quite make it as far as determining where she was, though, because she was much too busy staring horrified around her. A multitude of black ghostly figures had appeared on the deck during the short journey, each with a painted paper mask in place of a face. Chihiro squealed in fright and pressed back into the railing.

Chihiro glanced around and realised that the boat was full to bursting with the newly appeared passengers. They flocked from the doors of the indoor cabins and streamed down a flight of stairs connected to the upper deck. She cringed back as they passed by. None of them paid her any mind as they departed, and she slowly relaxed and watched them drift up the stone steps leading away from the ferry.

As the last filed from the boat, Chihiro followed carefully behind. She didn’t think they were going to suddenly attack – they had seemed to be just as happy to ignore her as Chihiro had been for them to do so. But she was still suspicious of the odd beings, and happily stayed well out of their way.

At the plank connecting the ferry to the shore, Chihiro hesitated, unsure, before she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small handful of coins. She placed them on the edge of the boat, before scurrying up the short flight of steps.

The top of the stairs spilled Chihiro out onto a bustling and wild market street. A road crammed with stalls stretched out in front of her. Dried bustles of herbs and paper dolls swung from some, and others boasted tumbling piles of stinking seaweed and sacks of colourful powders. Lizards and birds squealed in cages stacked in front of another. Chihiro stared in horrified wonder as one lizard disappeared completely before appearing again, and a chicken-like bird began to belch small flames through its thin bars. A row of restaurants filled a side street, their hot sizzling pans swirling with frying meats and vegetables, spewing a thick haze of spiced steam into the air.

Between the stalls, guided by the clamorous cries and bellows of sellers, flocked the market’s shoppers. And it was them that Chihiro found to be the most fascinating sight.

Shadowy figures, alike those on the ferry, wandered the street. They hovered over stalls while flocks of weasel-faced women shrieked with giddy delight as they fingered trinkets and studied them under the light of hanging lanterns. Squat well-dressed frogs were jolted by the legs racing past them – a man with a round, toad-like face knocked a miniature straw basket from one's hands, and the frog croaked and shook a webbed fist after him. Pigs stood on hind legs, bags swinging from the crook of their arms; a towering monstrosity of soot soaked rock and lava stooped to duck below a wooden arch; a procession of withered tortoises, bolts of silk clamped in their mouths, followed a floating wooden staff around a corner.

Chihiro watched them with wide eyes and a growing sense of unease. She was starting to suspect that she knew from where the creatures came. And that she had wandered into the heart of their home.

The stall closest to Chihiro, with a banner declaring it as _‘Step’s fresh potion herbs’_ , was empty. She ducked behind the low counter before anyone in the market could notice her. She forced a slow and steady breath between her clenched teeth. The clamour carried on, oblivious to her.

“Summer festival berries. Only five silvers a stick; not a dram more.”

“Rat skewers; hot off the skillet! Get ’em now or regret it.”

“Five for two! Scalian Melons: fresh from the fire pits of Drumgaa. Five for two – get your grubby hands off!” There was a sharp crack, followed by a squealing cry. “That’ll be eight gold coins for putting your fingers on it, dirty whelp.”

Chihiro risked a glance around the edge of the stall. At the opposite side of the road, a dark-haired woman with a pig’s snout and sharp beetle-black eyes had a child’s arm pinned to the counter of her stall under a wide trotter. A plump purple melon was on the ground at the child’s feet.

“I don’t have any gold, never mind eight pieces, you greedy algae,” the child yelped. The child whimpered pitifully, and the gills on its neck fluttered as the pig-woman ground her trotter further into the green flesh. A few fish scales tumbled onto the counter. 

“Then you’d best find your parents and have them bring me the money. Otherwise I’ll take this arm as payment. I know a few Piscosols who would love a fresh supply of ingredients for a good price.”

“I haven’t got any. Parents, I mean. I wouldn’t have tried to take your stupid melon otherwise.”

The pig-woman gave a harsh, snorting laugh. “Well, I suppose the arm it is.” She nodded and another pig, this one making up for the stark difference in height between the two pigs by its expansive width, shuffled out from the dark recess of the stall. It wielded a nasty looking knife hooked to its trotter. The pig raised the knife above its head, before letting it swing down towards the fish-child’s trapped arm. The child let out a mighty piercing shriek.

Chihiro jerked her eyes away as the loud crack of the blade broke across the market. A sudden hush followed as quick and sharp. Sick to her stomach, but urged by the irresistible whispers of morbid curiosity, Chihiro peeked out from her hiding place.

Rather than the bloody sight Chihiro braced for she was instead met with the back of a man who had his hand clamped around the mechanism attaching the blade to the pig’s trotter. The knife was stuck firm in the counter, next to the child’s arm.

The man was clad in a simple white tunic, and his hair fell in a dark straight sheet to brush broad shoulders; his feet were bare against the stone road. Chihiro wasn’t sure where the man had come from. He hadn’t been near the scene as it unfolded, and she had barely closed her eyes for a second before he had appeared. But he was certainly there in the thick of it now, and she could hear him speaking in low, furious tones which she couldn’t piece into words.

The pig-woman had no such scruples for privacy. “How I conduct my business is of no interest to you.” The pig-woman gave a furious snort. “You don’t know how hard we down here have to work. Ever since _you_ let those outsiders start roaming around, our income has been sinking faster than you can say _Lupple_. So what if I want to earn a few extra gold pieces from a nasty little beggar ruining my merchandise? It’s not like there’s anyone to speak for it.”

There was a soft sound of agreement from the surrounding stall owners as she spoke. The other pig nodded as it jerked it’s trotter from the man’s hand and released itself from the knife’s mechanism, leaving the blade embedded in the wood. It gave a final sour glare at the man before it disappeared back into the shade of the stall.

The man glanced around the street, and Chihiro caught a brief glimpse of a pale narrow face and straight nose before he turned back to the pig-woman. He seemed disquieted by the agreement around him, and he pitched his voice low and deadly, too quiet for Chihiro to hear. But even across the distance, Chihiro could feel the power behind it, and she was suddenly exceedingly glad to be hidden away from the man. The pig-woman seemed to be in the same mind as Chihiro, though lacked the luxury of a hiding place; she cowered under the intense scrutiny.

That was until a surge of bravery – _or stupidity_ , Chihiro thought – straightened the pig woman’s back and lifted her chin in defiance. She cut the man off with a sharp stomp of her trotter on the counter. The sound was jarring in the quiet that had settled over the street.

“Just who do you think you are to come here and lecture me on the _correct_ method of handling my affairs? Or had you forgotten about those _imposters,”_ the pig woman spat the word like it was filth in her mouth, “that you let in. Because we in the markets haven’t; we can’t. They ruin our businesses, chase away our customers, and poison anything they get their hands on. But I suppose it’s no matter to you – you still take their money; dirty money for a dirty little rag-tailed – ”

The man raised a hand, and the pig-woman flinched back as if expecting he would strike her. Instead, he simply pointed his outstretched hand towards her. But, to Chihiro’s confusion, this only worsened the woman’s trembles.

The gathered onlook of shoppers stirred and shuffled back. Chihiro heard a shrill voice utter: “Now, now, Master Haku. I’m sure we can sort out this little misunderstanding.” The child, squatted out of the pigs’ view in front of their stall, took the moment of distraction to scoop up the dirtied fallen melon and scurry away towards the lake unseen.

The man, Master Haku, must have said something else. Because the pig woman’s eyes widened in fear and she started to shake her head side to side, the fuzzy ears on top of her head flopping around. Chihiro leant further out from her hiding place, trying to catch a glimpse of what the man was going to do next for the pig woman to be so afraid. She wondered if he was going to put her arm to a knife to see how she liked it.

Master Haku continued to hold out his hand. Ribbons of soft blue light sprung from his fingertips and began to wrap around his hand. Chihiro watched in astonishment as the light crept across the skin until it completely covered his hand, before it flashed a dazzling white, and faded away. Left behind, in place of a hand, was a brilliant white lizard’s claw.

Chihiro pulled in a sharp surprised breath before she could clap a hand over her mouth. But it was too late.

The man cut off his sentence and hushed the pig woman when she began to speak in the following lull. He turned his head to the side, listening. His nose twitched minutely. Chihiro was unwillingly reminded of a documentary she had once seen when she pretended to be too sick to go to school; it had shown a lioness lying in wait in the dry savannah grasses as a baby buffalo unknowingly pranced by. Chihiro suddenly felt very sorry for that baby buffalo again.

Master Haku turned slowly. His dark eyes scanned the crowd and stalls. He was looking for something – and it was with a certainty that she knew that he was searching for was her.

With little thought to action, and despite the cry of tired muscles and the ache in her head, Chihiro crawled further into the empty stall and under a large table. There was an indignity in scurrying rat-like across the packed dirt floor – but it could be ignored under the much greater need to stay away from the searching eyes of the man. Chihiro was in little doubt now that she had stumbled into the home of the creatures that attacked her town, and she refused to be caught by one of them. Not now, not when so much of her life had already been sacrificed.

The table was pressed against a flimsy wooden fence, and when Chihiro pushed at one of the panels, it fell away, leaving a gap wide enough for her to wiggle through. She pulled herself through, taking care to make little noise or leave any sign of her passing. Splinters gripped fast to her shirt and jeans and scraped at her already cut arms.

On the other side, she turned back and did her best to brush away any footprints in the dust, and fit the panel back into place. It sat wonky, but it would have to do. There was no time to fuss over particulars, and would likely only land her in trouble if she did. She could already imagine the man standing over her as she worried the splint edge of the panel against the rest of the fence. _‘Excuse me, Sir. You’ll have to wait while I fit this back – I don’t want to leave any traces to be followed by, you see. I’m sure you understand. Now be a good man-lizard and let me have a head start, will you?’_

She gave the panel a final hopeless tug and stood to see where the gap had spat her out.

She found herself sequestered on a thin stone path behind a row of tall trellis threaded with blooming jasmine. The fragile white petals stood open to the night, and as she brushed past, the flowers released a sweet burst of heady perfume that lulled around her in the warm air and tickled her nose. As she felt her way along the dark row, she came to a partition between the frames and pushed through the trailing plants into a small garden.

It was little more than a compact square of browning grass. Trailing roses covered the high stone walls enclosing the garden, their odour permeating the small area, and the over-large red blooms too heavy-headed for the thin vines. They nodded in a drunken stupor under a light summer wind; jewel-toned beetles murmured sullenly as they tried to latch onto the evasive flowers. The bright moon loomed overhead and cast the garden in murky grey light.

To the left of the trellis, covertly set into the wall in a patch clear of roses, was a hatch no taller than Chihiro’s knee. To the right, an archway, through which came the shimmering lights and resumed chatter of the market.

Heading towards the market, and, more importantly, towards Master Haku, was hardly a sane option. And so Chihiro pulled her tired body towards the hatch.

Chihiro took a firm hold of the door and pulled. But it didn’t move. _Of course, it couldn’t be that simple_ , she thought in desperation.

She pulled and tugged at the door, her nails ripping against the wood as she tried to claw it open. But it was locked, or stuck, and she had no way of opening it. The hatch remained stubbornly shut.

Her fingertips were raw and stung with thin splinters from the old unkempt wood. She desperately wanted to cry. Out of fear or frustration, she wasn’t sure – but she forced it down. She wouldn’t give in to it now, not yet. She could grieve later. For now she had to stay alive for her parents, for Kenji, for her town.

With a new determination, she turned from the hatch, intent on finding another route. But she was stopped by a tall silhouette that stood framed in the archway.

The shoulder-length hair and pale face were unmistakable; the single hand of sharp claws catching a slip of moonlight even more so. Chihiro was caught.

Chihiro pressed back against the wall, hoping she might by some miracle be missed. But the hope vanished as the man strode straight towards her. Chihiro stood from her crouched place beside the hatch. She didn’t want to cower in front of this man; she wanted to keep some of her dignity, even if he was going to kill her. For the first time, she was able to view the man’s face entirely under the soft light.

It was a severe but not unattractive face. The fine structure and high cheekbones gave him an elegant air, though the dour frown of his brow and clenched jaw dampened the effect. The cold eyes that pinned her in place against the stone glowed eerily. The same light had lit the eyes of the creatures. Though instead of a sickly orange, the ones she looked into now were a striking sea-green. The man’s lips were pulled into a grim frown.

Chihiro felt an insistent niggling at the back of her mind: a prickle that something wasn’t quite right. She wavered on the edge of knowing, as if waiting in tense anticipation to be told some vital secret...but she couldn’t pull anything from her mind except fear of the stern eyes looking down on her.

Green. There was something about that shade of green. The thought fleeted though her mind, but was quickly gone.

Chihiro broke the silence as the man charged towards her.

“Stay away from me; don’t take a step closer,” she spat much braver than she felt. Her legs, already barely holding her upright, had turned to jelly, and she wasn’t quite sure how much longer she could stay upright under the man’s furious gaze.

To Chihiro’s immense surprise, Master Haku stopped. There were still a few feet between them. Enough that she wasn’t cornered completely, and could slip by if she was quick enough. Familiar looking or not, he was still deadly, and she didn’t want him any closer.

Master Haku stared at her, his eyes flicking over her face and down to her feet. His face remained still and unreadable. Chihiro crossed her arms as the silence stretched to an uncomfortable length. She had expected much less staring.

Master Haku let out a long sigh, and a heavy weariness settled across his face, pulling his frown deeper. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small object. Chihiro was about to scuttle away to the side in anticipation of whatever weapon it was. But he only glanced at the metal device and grimaced before pushing it back into his pocket.

“You need to leave now. There isn’t much time until the gate closes,” the man said in a soft voice.

“Excuse you?” Chihiro said before her brain could catch up. Running for her life wasn't something Chihiro had much experience in, but she was pretty sure arguing with her potential killer was low on the list of useful strategies.

Master Haku closed his eyes for a moment, and bone-deep tiredness seemed to roll off him in waves. Chihiro could have felt sympathy for him if it weren’t for her own pitiful state and the handful of claws still hanging from his sleeve. He smiled thinly and nodded to himself. When he opened his eyes, they were dull and filled with deep sadness.

“I’m not in the mood for this tonight,” he uttered, and Chihiro had the impression he was speaking more to himself than to her. “I don’t know if this is a test on my patience and control, but it really could _not_ have come at a worse time. Gods help me do this right.”

He turned his attention fully to Chihiro, and Chihiro stared back warily. “You’ll need to come with me so I can take you back quickly. I’m surprised you’ve not started to fade yet, but I suppose it will only be a matter of time. Come, you have a family to go to, don’t you? I’m sure you want to get back to them as soon as you can. You only need to go back through the tunnel, and you’ll be returned to where you belong. There’s scary monster’s here; it’s no place for a human like you,” Master Haku said with a wry smile.

The pain and grief suffused into every inch of Chihiro’s skin seemed to snap in a brilliant release, and she felt a burning rage build in the pit of her stomach and boil through her. Her mouth opened, and she had little control of the words that tumbled out.

“I think I’ve gotten quite good at recognising a monster when I see it,” she hissed through her teeth. “You’re just like those others; you’re going to take everything away. Why not kill me now, why wait? Or is this just part of the fun?”

To Chihiro’s confusion, a brief flash of hurt crossed Master Haku’s face before it was replaced by a stoic calm. “What others? The spirits in the market? I can assure you that they don’t like humans, but they’re not overly dangerous. As long as you don’t steal from them,” he added. “You have nothing to fear here if you don’t wander off again. But we need to get to the gate, now.”

Chihiro shook her head, and the man took a step closer. “Don’t come near me. If you consider that losing an arm isn’t dangerous, then I don’t think I can trust your judgements, and that includes going anywhere with you. You’ll throw me into that tunnel for them to find, to rip me to shreds like everyone else. What are they? Pets? Soldiers? They certainly looked less human than you.” Her mouth felt slow and stupid. The world around her grew hazy, and the painful headache had faded into pleasant light-headedness.

“What are you saying?” Master Haku demanded. He disregarded her order this time and closed the space between them. “You’re not making sense. What pets? What Soldiers? You need to tell me what has happened so that I can help you.”

She felt the words ‘ _I don’t need to tell you anything’_ form, but she was unable to press them past her lips. Hands touched her shoulders, and Chihiro was surprised to see the claws were once again human looking skin. She hadn’t seen the bright flash of light. Master Haku’s worried face filled her vision. His features were much softer when he wasn’t frowning, Chihiro noticed. The same niggling familiarity gave a twinge of rightness.

“Chihiro! Chihiro, answer me.”

“You’re one of _them_.”

“One of _who_?”

“Those creatures that murdered my town,” she managed. 

She couldn’t seem to bear it anymore. The faces of her parents swamped her blurring vision; the harsh echoes of Kenji’s grating voice begged in her ears; the memory of burning heat lingered on her skin. As the man shook her and desperately called her name – _how did he know her name?_ – unconsciousness drew around her. Chihiro had a moment to hope she wouldn’t be hurt too much when she hit the ground before she knew nothing more.

***

Chihiro sank in and out of sleep for what seemed to be hours – though it could have been days or weeks for as much as she could tell. She sometimes drifted out of a dreamless sleep enough to hear snippets of conversation. The deep voice of a man was almost constant in these, and Chihiro had come to expect it. It was usually answered by the higher pitch of a woman – though the voice was often left unanswered and seemed to be talk to itself much of the time. She would try to listen to the conversations, but would quickly become confused by the fast-paced whispers, and would slip back into sleep. Anything she might have heard and made sense of soon disappeared from memory.

Most times, there would be silence, and she would feel the press of a comfortably cool hand against her forehead, and listen to the soft breathing of its owner who must have sat next to her. She liked these times best.


End file.
